Elements
by alicesandra
Summary: After years of waiting, Jack and Sam finally get their chance. Their dreams can now become reality. Set around the end of Season 8 ish. Mature content over two chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

After completing my last two action packed stories I felt the need to take some time out and develop my creative writing skills a little further.

I hadn't intended to post this as it was merely an exercise to explore my abilities of using richer imagery. Plus I'd never written anything remotely erotic before, so I was initially reluctant to even share it with anyone. But after doing so with my amazing beta, Firedew, she managed to persuade me otherwise. So here it is.

There's no plot and if you don't like Jack and Sam as a couple you probably won't like this. For those that do 'ship' them, I hope you enjoy my humble offering/first attempt.

 **Elements**

 **Chapter One**

The retiring sun bathes the tranquil landscape with its fading warmth, lengthening the shadows of tall, majestic pines across the long grass that stirs gently in the breeze.

A large flock of birds soar gracefully across the crimson hues on the horizon, their flight a fluid dance in perfect harmony. Their destination is not the purpose of their flight, only the beauty of their journey. To feel the air beneath their wings, perhaps just to rejoice in their freedom and to be a part of something more than just the essence of one.

One is such a lonely number.

The light abruptly dims, and the warmth and vibrancy of color evaporates from the scene. A large cloud has stolen away the sun.

She shivers a little. The breeze too has lost its warmth, yet she does not leave. The cloud cannot hide the sun forever.

So, with her eyes closed she sits and waits, breathing in the deliciously pure mountain air, lulled by the cathartic sounds of nature surrounding her, in her own little captured slice of heaven.

* * *

He leans against the door frame, watching as the sun begins to creep out from behind the last of the clouds, once more soaking the landscape with its final warmth before it surrenders the sky to the moon for safekeeping.

It will be a clear night, a perfect night for stars.

The air has cooled considerably; a perfect night for a log fire.

Maybe some wine. Soft music.

His eyes wander languidly across his property and come to rest on a solitary figure. He sighs quietly through a contented smile.

A perfect night indeed.

* * *

The moon casts its silvery magical light across the landscape, casting shadows long and deep. Wisps of smoke drift lazily from the chimney, climbing up into the star-studded sky.

A door opens. The sound of gentle piano music politely interrupts the hush of night.

She steps out on the deck, and her arms rest on top of the wooden railing, her wine glass dangling over the edge, cradled lightly in both hands. Though her shirt offers little warmth from the chill in the air, it's a refreshing contrast against the warmth of her cheeks. She hears movement from inside, but remains where she is, content to close her eyes as the music washes over her.

She can sense his presence, that magnetic gravitational pull of him, watching her from the doorway.

She doubts that it's less about his socks, but more about the years in black ops that enables him to approach her so silently.

One, two, three beats and he's beside her.

"Hey." His voice is hushed, tender.

She smiles as she glances at him, but any words instantly disappear.

Different moons on different planets, his handsome profile had always looked the same. But not here, not now.

There are no lines of worry to interrupt the finely planed brow. The perfect shape of his slightly parted lips hold neither tension nor stress. The flawless line of his jaw and the chiseled cheekbones are like exquisite marble, softened in the pale silvery light. Dimples emerge as his lips form a smile. Turning to meet her gaze, his chocolate brown eyes are now so dark, yet the mischievous glint is unmistakable.

"More wine?" His tone is sultry, deep and suggestive.

She's focused more on his lips than on the question itself.

"Please." Her answer is no more than a whispered breath.

He produces a bottle and leans in close as she lifts her since forgotten glass. His dark eyelashes are wonderfully long for a man, and his hair still smells of the shampoo that she loves so much.

Yet it's not the wine that has her lingering on such minute details; she's been frustratingly aware of these finer points about him for years. She's intoxicated by him, an addiction for which there is no cure.

* * *

He watches her lips part to take a deliberate sip from her glass, the moonlight accenting the exquisite line of her slender neck as she swallows. She returns her gaze to the landscape. Her slow exhale mists in the cooling night air, and the fall of the light shifts across her profile.

"So beautiful," she murmurs on a breath, perhaps unwilling to disturb the tranquility.

"Yeah." It's all his own breath will allow. She truly is.

Her eyes shift back to him, and he's once again blissfully drowning in the infinite depth of blue. His hand touches her cheek, her skin soft as silk beneath his fingertips. She covers his hand with hers and presses her cheek against his palm.

He starts to lean closer, his shallow breath mingling with hers as the distance between them diminishes. The tip of her tongue darts across her lower lip, the slight sheen of moisture glistening seductively.

"Jack."

Her husky utterance is a tender caress as it whispers softly from her lips.

His voice shakes through the smallest of smiles. "Say it again."

It's not an order, but a need.

Twinkling blue eyes crease a little with her impish smile. "Jack."

He tilts his head, noses brush. Their lips part as they gently touch. He lingers unmoving as he basks in the soft warmth and magical innocence of the moment. But he craves more, and his lips intuitively begin to move against hers, deepening their kiss.

* * *

It doesn't matter that she's forgotten how to breathe; he is now her air.

The chill in the air is forgotten; he is now her warmth.

His lips are amazingly soft yet firm with purpose as his tongue licks his way in lazily to dance with her own. The faint taste of scotch barely registers as she slides her hand underneath his shirt. The taut muscles of his back shift as he pulls her body flush with his own.

She vaguely realizes that he's no longer holding the wine bottle as his hand glides down, following the curve of her waist to rest tightly on her backside. Her hips move of their own volition, unashamedly pressing against his hardening arousal.

His deep moan preludes a shift. His hand slides from her cheek to cradle the back of her head. Long fingers thread through her hair and his lips demand more, which she gives, unwaveringly, and then time has no meaning.

Breathless, she breaks free, surfacing just long enough to take in enough air, but gasps as his lips descend to her neck, leaving a trail of whispering kisses down to her collarbone.

Her fingers splay wide across his back, barely holding on as she melts into his embrace. She raises her other hand, but the glass she's still holding bumps up against his chest. He pauses, takes it from her, and she smiles as he tosses it nonchalantly over his shoulder, thudding gently onto the grass beyond.

For a moment, neither move. His dark eyes smolder dangerously,barely concealing the rampant desire beneath.

Sweet music softly continues to serenade the night.

Their timing is seamless, their movement fluid as their unspoken race begins.

There's no trace of awkwardness as her hands fumble to find each small button of his shirt, or uncertainty as his nimble fingers make short work of her own. The cool night air hits her skin before she's finished undoing his last button.

Incredibly, he waits, seemingly content to watch the flush of her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. The last button finally gives way and her breath hitches as the pale light falls across his skin. Her fingers trail almost reverently along the smooth lines of his collarbone to the soft silver glints of chest hair. His abdominals flex their response to her delicate touch and his breathing falters, escaping on a low guttural moan as she follows the delicious trail of hair down towards his naval.

His warm hand covers hers, halting her progress as she starts to work at the buckle of his belt. Her eyes dart up to his, but his smile brings her focus back down to his mouth.

"My turn."

His tone is deep, quietly demanding, and she can't deny him anything. She exhales deliberately, trying to calm herself down, but her hold on his belt tightens as his fingertips ghost across her skin. He languidly traces up the line of her waist, her ribs, sliding beneath the loose folds of her shirt towards her back. His touch is electrifying.

He moves in so close that she can feel his heat, his hardening manhood pressing against her. His agile fingers suddenly give a slight flick, and she inhales sharply as her bra falls loose, the soft material brushing against her sensitive skin.

What little self-restraint she has left falls away and she groans, capturing his lips forcibly as her fingers return to the buckle of his belt.

His hand slides towards her breast as the belt finally comes loose and she fumbles for entrance. His gasp follows her own as he drives his hips against her hand, pinning her progress as he runs his thumb over her aroused peak, filling her with such unbridled desire that her legs turn to jelly.

Her arms snake around his neck, her fingers raking roughly through his soft hair as she arches her body, rubbing against him. An ache is blossoming deep inside and suddenly it isn't enough. She wants more.

* * *

His heart is racing, his blood coursing, his passion rising.

The touch of her, every sound she makes, the cute freckles that covered her exquisite neck and shoulders and the sweet smell of her soft blonde hair …

If he lived a thousand life times, it would never be enough. She is his addiction that would never, ever be satiated.

Once more she breaks the kiss, panting breathlessly against his ear, sending blissful shivers straight down his spine to the very tip of his toes.

She bends herself against him, shifting and pressing the growing damp patch in his boxers against his heightened arousal that is becoming almost painful to bear. His breathing grows more labored, every breath heavier than the last.

"Jack, please."

What little control he has finally snaps, and she's as light as a feather as he scoops her up in his arms. His purposeful stride doesn't stop until he reaches the bedroom.

 **To be continued …**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note** : My thanks to Neela for her absolutely stunning cover artwork, and to Firedew for her endless encouragement and beta skills.

 **Elements**

 **Chapter Two**

The skies show no sign of giving up their dominance to the morning sun, too intent on releasing their heavy burden across the landscape. Leaves and flowers bend under the torrential force of rain. Small streams race down the roof to pool into the gutters below. The birds are silent, perched high in the shelter of the trees, waiting for the skies to clear once again.

The droplets rushing down the window pane blur out of focus as his mind begins to drift.

He'd been fractured, hollow, and unattached for so long that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like. But he's no longer alone, no longer broken, and he remembers the intoxicating feeling of emotions in free fall; of falling in love so deeply and to be so deeply loved in return.

A familiar creak sounds from the floor above, prompting a relaxed smile to form on his lips. He turns away from the window to check on the bacon in the frying pan and then pulls the jug of freshly brewed coffee from its stand.

* * *

Like a thousand tiny stones, the patter of the rain taps incessantly against the window pane, slowly stirring the occupant of the room from her slumber.

She stretches, languishing in the heady glow that resonates through her entire body, filling her soul with the satiated feeling that follows an endless night of passion.

The empty space beside her isn't exactly unexpected; he'd always been an early riser. Then the unmistakable aroma of coffee and bacon assail her senses and her smile widens easily.

She sweeps the bedcovers aside and casts her eyes across the room for something to throw on. Their clothes are still a scattered trail that lead towards the bed. She spots his shirt laying rumpled by the door.

Perfect.

Her body feels light and strangely sensual as she scoops the item up, scrunching the material to her nose, briefly closing her eyes as she breathes in his musky scent.

She slips it on, and her smile widens as she catches her reflection in the mirror. Her hands are no longer visible in the long sleeves and the bottom almost reaches the top of her knees. But she doesn't care. It's like a secondary cuddle, encased in the safety of his love.

She pads softly down the stairs, running her hand lightly along the smooth pine of the bannister. His bannister, in his log cabin, and she can't remember a place that had ever felt more like home.

She pauses at the kitchen doorway, struck by the scene of simple domesticity before her. How could watching him, wearing only his boxers, move about the kitchen make her smile and her heart swell with such utter contentment?

Easy.

She's in love.

He turns around, and his easygoing smile settles effortlessly across his handsome face. "Morning."

"Morning," she replies softly, stepping into the room as he slides a steaming mug of coffee across the breakfast bar towards her.

"Hungry?" he asks, turning back to jostle the contents of the sizzling frying pan.

The full extent of his culinary abilities had only recently come to the fore. Last night's dinner was a testament to that. Who knew that the Head of Homeworld Security had become as much an expert in the kitchen as he was in the field?

"Famished." She picks up the mug, cradling it in both hands as she leans back against the breakfast bar.

He pauses, then glances over his shoulder, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling. "Wonder why."

* * *

The contents of the pan is abruptly forgotten.

All his attention is now on the radiant blush of her cheeks and the way her wonderfully long eyelashes are dark against her complexion as she regards the contents of her mug. She catches her lower lip with her teeth as she tries to stifle the bashful smile that can barely be concealed.

The same luscious lips that had uttered the sweetest of sounds, had cried out his name, and their softness against his neck before she'd fallen asleep in his arms.

He doesn't attempt to control his smile as he takes in the shirt that she's wearing. The long sleeves are bunched up to the elbow and the bottom of the capacious shirt almost touches her shapely knees. Two little buttons are all that stand in the way of the tantalizing pink skin beneath.

It takes a small step towards her to have those beautiful blue eyes dance mischievously back at him.

"Aren't you hungry?"

He leans in, hovering just above those tantalizing lips. "Oh, yeah."

Her hand gently pushes at his chest as she giggles softly. "Then, you'd better rescue the bacon."

"Later," he murmurs, once more closing in on his delicious target.

"Jack …"

Her sentence is stalled, her words slowly inhaled by the tender pressure of his lips.

He only just remembers to switch off the gas before all his attention is entirely focused on the much more pressing issue of vanquishing two very small buttons.

* * *

She stirs, awareness creeping back as the remnants of sleep start to fade away.

The bedroom is no longer darkened by the incessant grey curtain of rain, and the window offers a transformed prospect. The once low hung sky has begun to lift and brighten, teasing glimpses of blue that promise the return of the sun to the saturated landscape.

Feeling the warmth of his body against hers, she wonders if this is how a bride feels after their wedding day. The warm glow of contentment, lying beside the man they love … such a heavenly way to wake up.

She smiles, recalling his wickedly playful grin that had preceded her squealing with delight as he'd chased her back up the stairs to the bedroom. Breakfast suddenly forgotten, their hunger for each other far stronger than food.

She doesn't need to look to know he's still lying to her right, but everything is still so new, so like a dream that she can't quite grasp that this is truly real.

So she looks.

He's on his back. His left arm, which had been wrapped around her waist, is now tucked behind his head, angled towards her. Lips slightly open, almost begging to be kissed. The chiseled cheekbones and line of his jaw are just asking to be stroked.

So peaceful, so handsome. Her heart flutters with the thrill of reality. So utterly hers.

The wonderful swell of his biceptapers down to the fine dark hair of his armpit, still untouched by grey. His muscled chest is partially covered by the bedsheet, which continues to rise and fall with every sleeping breath he takes.

Perhaps it's the new sense of freedom. Perhaps it's that he sleeps, giving her the perfect opportunity to explore that which has been unobtainable for so long. Whatever the reason, she can't help feeling like some teenager, sneaking a look at some forbidden fruit.

She can't stop an inanely silly grin as she begins to drag the sheet down, slowly uncovering more of his chest, and she drinks in every inch of him, seeing with new eyes.

Her smile suddenly wanes. Youthful exuberance transforms into mature sobriety. Scars interrupt the smooth contours of his skin, some faded by the passage of time while others still stand proud, too recent and too deep to diminish yet.

But each marks a testament of his strength and tenacity to survive.

Her eyes linger and her fingertip whispers across his skin, tracing the heavy line of one particular scar, remembering.

' _Sir!' she yells as he falls backwards, crashing to the ground as an Al'kesh roars overhead to drop more bombs across the field of battle. She risks breaking cover and dashes to his side, horrified by the smoke still curling from his chest …_

One moment of countless many when her world had almost ended.

The gentlest sigh drifts deeply from his throat and tugs her from her somber reflection, stilling her hand as a blushing heat stirs between her thighs.

She watches, waits, knowing that it takes very little to pull him from his slumber.

Yet his breathing settles, continuing to sleep, though the sheet twitches of its own accord.

This is definitely new.

She pushes herself to rest on her elbow, while her free hand tentatively continues to pull the sheet on its slow journey south. She stops instantly as his breathing falters and the material shifts again, but his breathing settles once more and still he appears to sleep.

With a feather-light touch, she sweeps across the very top of the soft hairs on his chest and follows the trail down towards the clearly stirring prominence.

It's incredibly empowering to finally watch the body of this man respond to the merest of her touches.

The longer she watches, the deeper she breathes. The deeper her breaths, the greater the sensation as her pert nipples brush against the warmth of his skin.

Though she continues to run her fingers through his naval hair, she aches to touch him. To feel the length of hard silk in her hand, to hear him groan as she smooths the slip of moisture from the tip across his throbbing …

He stirs as another low moan escapes his slightly parted lips, heightening the heat between her legs to a blossoming ache of desire. She can resist the temptation no longer and her hesitation is only momentary before she slides her hand beneath the sheet, wrapping her fingers around his hardening shaft.

His breath catches, inhales sharp and deep, releasing it on a rumbling throaty groan as his hips tilt, pushing more deeply into her hold.

"God."

His erotic murmur sends tingling heat through her entire body. She instinctively tightens her grip and then begins to move.

* * *

At first, he'd thought it had been a dream; another beautifully erotic but impossible dream. He'd certainly been asleep.

Though he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so soundly, there'd just been too many years on the front line to break the age old habit of sleeping light, or diminish his awareness of her. He'd known the moment she'd awoken.

He can almost feel her smile and has to fight hard to suppress his own as the bedsheet begins to move south. Not wishing to interrupt her newfound freedom to explore―as well as wondering just how far she would go―he focuses on his breathing. She knows him so well, but he can still give all the appearances of sleep.

His concentration almost vanishes, his self-control hanging by a thread as his skin ignites beneath her sudden touch. He barely remembers how to inhale without it shaking, exhale without it shuddering as she continues to caress his highly sensitive skin.

She's tracing the line of the old blast wound that would forever remind him of a mission that …

He hears the gentle utterance of a groan before he realizes it came from him and her hand stops. Too late to take it back, and there's just no way in hell he can stop his erection from responding. No way.

He struggles to resume his regular breaths, his drive to give her the freedom to explore now more than just a wish. It's incredibly erotic and he cannot deny her anything. He wants to give her everything.

He feels her shift beside him, perhaps to rest on her elbow, and then the sheet begins to move again. Her breathing has deepened, and, with each breath, he can feel the hardening tips of her breasts brush against his skin. Every single hair is vibrating, pulsating, stirring his libido as energy races through him. It takes every inch of self-control to refrain from reaching out.

Another moan escapes his lips as her hand gets ever closer.

He prays she doesn't stop …

"God."

* * *

Their eyes connect as he shifts his weight above her. Her hands fist the sheets, and their hushed groans combine as he slowly slides inside. Her eyes flutter close, bathing in the moment of perfect unity.

He waits, his solid frame unmoving above her, allowing her time to adjust, stretching to accommodate his size.

Her grip loosens from the sheets to smooth across his skin. Her palms enclose each taut buttock, pressing him against her tilting hips, her unspoken quest for more.

He answers her move with one of his own—a kiss so tender, so honest and profound that her heart and body melt beneath him.

Her eyes drift open. She inhales as he carefully withdraws, then sighs as he pushes back in. The depth of his satiated groan sends exquisite shudders through her entire being.

His expression deepens with every deliberate penetrating thrust. She's seen his focused look before, but not like this.

Never like this.

Pulling, dragging, pushing, his languid rhythm is unadulterated perfection.

He lowers his head, his rhythm builds and the bed begins to creak.

This is heaven. She's in heaven and she never wants to leave.

Hard muscles tense and straining, he softly moans with every powerfully controlled thrust. Now glistening with sweat, his body looms above her like some kind of perfect Adonis.

"God," his voice shakes, his countenance intense. He's starting to lose control. "Sam …"

Her name whispers from his lips, so intimate, so unbelievably erotic.

His pace abruptly stops, and she stumbles, her rhythm instantly lost.

Their ragged breaths are harsh against the silence.

"Jack?"

"Close your legs."

It's not an order, but her body naturally acquiesces to his soft demanding tone.

He shifts, pushing his weight slightly forward and her eyes widen with surprise as her breath rushes out on a rapid cry.

"Holy Hannah," she utters reverently, and her Adonis smiles with modest gratification.

He begins to move, watching her as he slowly resets the thrust is tantalizingly deliberate, withthe perfect amount of pressure, the exact amount of friction, he targets her clitoris with relentless precision.

Her body responds, tightening around his hardness, every inch of his length dragging and pushing to take her that little bit higher, that little bit closer to the edge.

Attentive and intuitive, he eases off, leaving her breathlessly frustrated, only to start again.

Over and over and over again.

His levels of physical endurance had always impressed her, but she's never considered them in such a way before now. Just how long will he sustain this level of intensity before she completely loses her mind?

She teeters on the brink, her body almost weightless with unfulfilled ecstasy, floating so high and he's her only lifeline.

Her labored breaths find voice. Her whimpers swell to heaving growls and her hands tightly clasp his pounding muscled buttocks.

"Jack!"

His focus snaps back to her face, and she's momentarily lost in the gorgeous dark pools of unbridled desire staring back at her.

"Come with me." Her voice shakes.

"Not yet." His growl is deep, primal.

"Why?" Her tone is demanding, impatient and would've once earned her a sharp reprimand.

But not now. He's no longer her Commanding Officer, he's …

"Oh, God!" She's suddenly racing at breakneck speed towards her goal. So close, so very close …

"Let go, Sam." His voice is tight, straining, clinging to the edge.

"Not without you …" She couldn't, wouldn't leave him behind.

His rhythm starts to falter. "I'm right behind you. Just … go!"

She's heard him say those words a million times, but never like this.

Always spoken in urgency, but never like this.

He'd covered her six so many times, but never like this.

He'd always been there, his strength and loyalty unwavering, but never like this.

Nothing had _ever_ been like this.

This is new.

To learn of the other, beyond the rank.

To discover their bond, beyond the team.

To explore their love, beyond the friendship.

To finally share their life …

Together.

With that she shatters, her heartfelt cry melds with his and they finally tumble over the edge.

* * *

Refreshed and reborn, the drenched landscape breathes in the returning warmth of the sun. Leaves and flowers unfold and stretch, the majestic pines drip the last of their water and birds stir from their shelter to once more take to the brightened skies.

Two birds soar gracefully away from the flock, finding their own path across the azure skyline. Their destination is not the purpose of their flight, only the beauty of their journey. To share the same air beneath their wings, to rejoice in one another and to relish their new found freedom.

In their own perfect little slice of heaven.

 **The End.**

 **Post Script:** If you've read my SGA stories and are waiting for the sequel, **Destiny of the** Chosen, I hope to have something for you real soon.


End file.
